


All Your Fault

by starksparkcr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake Character Death, Irondad, NOT STARKER - Freeform, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Other, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Presumed Dead, Tony Stark Gives Him a Few, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, because fuck that shite, jk i actually liked endgame but still that ending was a big ole nope from me, not really villain but he bad in this, spideyson, villain!mysterio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksparkcr/pseuds/starksparkcr
Summary: the one in which mysterio is not the hero he’s pretended to be and makes peter see the unthinkable. luckily tony is there for his spider-kid.





	All Your Fault

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this instead of studying for my final exams. also it’s tony stark’s birthday when i’m writing this so happy birthday to the motherfuckin legend himself.

      It had been exactly two days since Peter Parker and Quentin Beck had taken down the Elementals in Europe. It had, however, taken much longer for Peter Parker to realize that Quentin Beck wasn’t exactly who he said he was— a hero. In fact, Peter was realizing this now while alone with the sorcerer in his hideout in the depths of New York City. 

     Mysterio stalked closer to where Peter was hovering in the corner, hands ablaze in a green smoke.

     “Hey, Petey, do you want to see something cool?”  Peter was hesitant but nodded, although the smirk on Quentin’s face was leading him to believe that he made the wrong decision. 

     The green danced toward him as Quentin waved his hands around slowly and precisely. Peter felt everything go mushy; his mind was slow and his vision was blurry. The hairs on the back of his neck and his arms were sticking straight up, but his spidey-senses didn’t do him any good now. A loud thud erupted out of the silence and Peter tried to jerk his head to the source but his muscles were slow, so it took much longer than it should’ve. 

      There, where the noise had come from, was a person— a man, to be exact. The man was sitting, and although Peter couldn’t differentiate any of his features, he knew it wasn’t Quentin. Still though, the man seemed extremely familiar to the enhanced teen. Peter tried to walk forward, but he couldn’t lift his legs, resulting in an awkward shuffle toward the still-sitting man.  The posture of whom seemed unnatural, less like he was lounging and more as though he had fallen into that position. 

      As Peter got closer to the figure, he began to make out his facial features. The man was older, perhaps in his 50’s, his hair was graying and there were a few wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. His skin looked to be burned or rotting on the right side, and his lips were parted slightly. But, the most unsettling part was his eyes. What were once possibly a lively, golden brown were now a lifeless black, indicating that this man was either dead, or very close to it. It took a minute for Peter’s almost drugged mind to make out who exactly was slumped in front of him. 

      The man in front of him was Tony Stark. 

     Nevertheless, this Tony Stark was older than the one Peter knew, the one waiting at the compound for Peter to come back from his “friend’s house”.

     “Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice was laggard and gentle, a result of the green fog still floating around him. 

     Peter and Tony had come far in the past year, as Peter and May were now living full time at the compound with Tony and the rest of the Avengers. They were way past the “Mr. Stark” stage, so much so that Peter usually just called him ‘Dad’, yet Peter couldn’t bring himself to call this man anything but Mr. Stark. This man was not Tony. At least, he wasn’t the Tony that Peter knew and loved. Mr. Stark’s eyes were hazy and made no immediate move to drift over to Peter’s own, instead taking their time as if it required real effort to move them.

     “Pete?” The Pseudo-Stark sounded exactly the same as the Tony back home, so much so that Peter wanted to curl up against him like he normally would.

     “Yeah, Mr. Stark, it’s me.” Peter offered a relaxed smile, still unsure of the slouched man. 

     “Peter.” Mr. Stark’s voice encompassed such finality as he said his name again that Peter felt even more unsettled than before.

     “Yeah, Mr. Stark,” Peter repeated. “I’m here. It’s Peter.” 

     Mr. Stark’s eyebrows furrowed as his eyes stared into Peter’s own. He reached his left arm up and grasped Peter’s shirt in his hand, bringing his face closer.

     “Why didn’t you stop this? You could’ve saved me.” His voice was rough but the tone of it was miserable and sad.

     “Stop what, Mr. Stark? What do you mean?” Peter was panicking now, seeing his mentor so undeniably distressed and hurt.

     “This is all your fault.” was all he replied as his eyes rolled back in his head and the grip on Peter’s shirt loosened.  Mr. Stark’s body collapsed backwards, and Peter went with him.

      “Tony? Please, no! Dad?” Peter was regaining complete consciousness again, but his eyes were still blurry, seemingly from tears this time instead of magic. His mind was reeling and his heart felt as though it were being stabbed. 

      He reached out a shaking hand to touch Tony’s face, only for his whole body to turn to green ashes and float away.

      “No! Tony!” 

      Peter frantically wailed, jerking his head around for any sign of his mentor, but all he found was Quentin, staring intently. There was a deep set smile on his face as if he knew exactly what Peter had just seen and enjoyed the show. 

      “You’re too late, Peter. You couldn’t save him. It’s just like your Uncle Ben all over again.” Quentin’s laugh rang out before he went slinking silently into the shadows of the den. 

      Peter curled in on himself, burying his face in his arms. He was hyperventilating, and his sobs were preventing him from breathing even more. Why couldn’t he have been there? Tony was now gone, Iron Man, his mentor, his father figure, was gone all because of his negligence. It was all his fault.

      His weeping was thunder in the empty room, and his ragged breaths felt like lightning in his throat. The watch around his wrist was digging into the side of his face, but Peter couldn’t find himself able to do anything about it. 

     “ _This is all your fault_ ”  was echoing throughout his rattled mind.

      But, the watch on his wrist was beeping now, bringing Peter into the reality long forgotten to see that he was getting a call. A call from none other than Tony Stark himself. Peter scrambled onto his feet and pressed the accept button.

      “Dad? Tony is that you?” Peter’s voice was tiny yet rushed, and the utter panic in it made Tony antsy.

      “Yeah, yeah, Pete, it’s me. Your vitals are off the charts right now kid, and I was calling to make sure everything was okay. But telling from your tone of voice, I’m going to go with a big fat no. I’m getting in my suit now, ETA is five minutes.”

      Peter’s heart was conflicted at the call. It was real, this was real. But, he had just watched Tony die, he has just heard his heart stop beating in his chest.

      “Okay.” Peter managed before ending the call and slumping back down. Tears were forming even faster now. ‘ _He’s okay_ ’ Peter thought.

      When Tony arrived in the dark cavern-like place that he’d traced Peter to, he was a little put off. This was not a house like Peter had said he was going to earlier, let alone a home. 

     Tony remained on high alert as he tiptoed around, searching for his kid. He heard the crying before he even saw Peter, and instantly knew that it was worse than he’d figured. Tony practically fell out of his suit and ran to the cowering boy, engulfing him in his arms.

     “You’re alright Underoos. I’ve got you.” 

     Peter’s hands curled into fists around the material of Tony’s shirt, and he buried his head into Tony’s neck.

     “B-but I saw you die!” Peter bawled. Tony, confused as ever, attempted to seperate the boy and himself a little bit. 

     “It’s okay, Peter, I‘m here now. I‘m alive, alright?” He shook Peter softly to get him to look up. Peter did, sniffled, then nodded. 

      “I need you to calm down, okay? Can you do that for me? Can you match your breathing with mine?” Tony coached Peter into breathing properly in the hopes of make sense of the mess the teenager was in. 

      When he finally calmed down enough, with only a small trickle of tears flowing from his eyes, Tony began his soft interrogation. 

      “Where are we, kid? Can you tell me that?” Peter’s bloodshot eyes met his own weary ones as he nodded again.

     “We’re at Quentin Beck’s, um, home.” Peter sounded unsure of whether or not the word home was right or not. Tony, hearing this and looking around more, felt even more unsure than before.

     “Okay. Now, can you tell me what the hell happened and why you’re crying alone on the floor? Oh, and it would also be cool if you told me how the hell you saw me dead when I’m still kicking it right here.” Tony couldn’t help but make a dry joke about the situation, hoping to lighten the mood even a smidge. 

      “Well, Quentin and I were in here talking, and then he asked if I wanted to see something cool. He looked a bit like you do when you know someone’s about to get pranked but they don’t, you know? I said yes anyways, and then he did that magic thing he always does,” peter did the motions with his hands.

      “and then green fog was surrounding me and my head went all fuzzy. I heard a bang, and I looked around and saw a dude sitting on the floor. That dude was you, though, but you were older and burned, maybe?” Peter’s voice was getting shakier as he went on, so Tony reached out and put a hand his shoulder as a reassurance.

     “You looked at me, and then you grabbed my shirt and told me that I could’ve done something, that I could’ve saved you. I asked what you meant, but you just said it was all my fault. Then, then you- you d-died. You died and I could’ve stopped it.” Peter huffed out and tears were pouring again.  Tony looked solemnly at the kid.

     “Is that all?” Tony expected him to nod, but instead the boy shook his head ‘no’ .

     “No. Then, then you turned to green dust and I saw Quentin. And-and he said that it was all my fault too. That it was like B-Ben all over again!” Peter’s voice was rising as he all but shrieked out his story.  Tony scooped Peter into a tight hug again.

      “It was fake, kiddo. I’m not going anywhere. I promise you I’m going to be right by your side forever. And what did we talk about, huh? It wasn’t your fault what happened to your Uncle. You were just a kid, you couldn’t help it. The world just sucks sometimes,” Peter looked up at him accusingly. 

      “Okay, you’re right, it sucks all of the time. Point is, you’re okay. Nothing is going to happen to you, and nothing is going to happen to me. I’m here, see?” Tony tapped his nanotech arc reactor once resulting in a blue flicker.

     “I’m always here,” Tony hesitated before adding, “and I love you, kid. Never forget that. I love you more than anything.” 

     Peter huffed out a chuckle.

     “I guess that thing really is proof that Tony Stark has a heart.” 

      Tony smiled before sending him a farce glare. “So no ‘I love you too, Tony, you’re the best’?” He made his voice go up higher as he impersonated Peter. 

      Peter giggled again before he mocked him, “I love you too, Tony, you’re the best.”

Tony pushed Peter’s head into his shoulder and placed his chin atop the unruly curls. 

     “I really do love you dad.” Peter sighed.

     “I know you do, son. I love you too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this story was a whole ass, barely-edited mess, but i had an idea and i ran with it. i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.


End file.
